


Verba non acta

by STILL_not_ginger



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Arguing, Banter, Best Friends, Bickering, But it's totally his fault though, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Sherlock is in denial that he did anything wrong, arguing like an old married couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 23:49:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20882696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/STILL_not_ginger/pseuds/STILL_not_ginger
Summary: Sherlock had absolutely nothing to do with their current predicament. This was all Watson's idea.





	Verba non acta

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! I had an idea based on fact that Sherlock and Watson are always seen in a cab or a squad car that Sherlock hates public transport. I love these two best when they are arguing with each other. Enjoy!

Sherlock surveyed the filthy plastic seat with disdain seeping out of his every pore. It seemed to be partially upholstered in what was once some garish print that you might otherwise encounter carpeting a bowling alley floor. Although, he couldn’t be quite sure considering several years’ worth of sunlight and spilled coffee had dilapidated the surface nearly beyond recognition.

The portly, mustached bus driver made his displeasure clearly known in an accent that undoubtedly originated from the Bronx, “Hey, folks let’s keep it moving. I got other stops to make sometime today!”

Joan gave Sherlock a decidedly sharp nudge in the ribs. He glanced over at her with disgust still curling his lip.

“You _cannot_ be serious, Watson.”

“Sherlock, we had an agreement. Would you just sit down already? You’re holding everyone else up.”

Because, of course, he would willingly lick the dried sauce from a stranger’s stationary without hesitation and then turn up his nose at the notion of sitting on a public bus for 3 stops.

He was a man of principle.

He had standards.

“I shall be sending _you_ the bill for the dry cleaning.”, he declared even as he tugged his coat down and took his seat, pouting. Joan believed she’d caught a fleeting glimpse of her prefrontal cortex as her eyes rolled on by.

She quickly assumed her position in the aisle seat, just as they had previously agreed upon. She knew she was caving in to his demands a bit by acting as his own personal buffer. His not “mingling with the great unwashed”, as he has so eloquently phrased it, was part of the terms in their negotiation. Her acting as a human shield between him and the rest of society, on the other hand, hadn’t been specifically addressed.

She decided to let this one go. By now she knew how to pick her battles with him, and she was still only one cup of coffee deep this morning. She’d at the very least need a stiff cup of tea before they broached this topic.

“I still don’t see why we couldn’t just have taken a cab.”, he groused, tucking his feet underneath the bus seat and crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

“We’ve been over this already and you know _exactly_ why we aren’t taking a cab after that little stunt you pulled last week.”

He had the nerve to look offended.

“That ‘little stunt’ might very well have been an integral part of our investigation. Would you have preferred me to have merely ignored incriminating evidence when it was staring us right in the face?”

“I would have _preferred_ if you had not confronted our cab driver and accused him of being a murder accomplice.”

“He was middle-aged, he had a dark beard, and I know I am not the only one who noticed the photo of the prophet Muhammad on his dashboard. The man was clearly a devout Muslim matching the exact description of the man the witness saw fleeing the scene. He fit the profile to a fault. I will not apologize for doing our job.”

“You couldn’t have at least waited until he dropped us off at the precinct?”

“Time was of the essence, Watson. I could not have risked him destroying any evidence.”

“You insulted him, and he kicked us out onto the curb.”, she said flatly.

“I don’t often find myself befriending potential murder suspects, do you?”, he challenged.

“It was raining! I am not suggesting you should have invited him for dinner and a movie. Just maybe not openly accuse him being complicit in a double homicide before 9:00 in the morning. There should be enough wiggle-room between those two extremes even for you to be civil.”

Really, if sarcasm were an art form, Joan Watson was Claude fricking Monet himself and Sherlock was more than welcome to browse her gallery at his leisure.

“You’re just angry with me because I borrowed your brazier underwire for my pig mummification experiment last week.”, he said flicking his eyes in her direction before sharply shifting his gaze back out the window.

“First of all, borrowing implies that the item will be returned and often be in the same condition it was found in. Secondly, no, I am angry with you because Tony’s is the 3rd cab service you have gotten us blacklisted from in as many weeks.”, she fired back. He was not the only one who could use fewer grubby handrails and plastered wads of chewed gum in their life and it wouldn’t kill him to acknowledge that fact.

“So, you admit that you’re angry with me and that this whole charade is merely an elaborate plan designed to punish me, hmm?”

“You are not seriously trying to blame this on me, right? Because you do realize that, if you keep pissing off taxi services at this rate, we will have no other _option_ but to ride public transportation.”

She started to hope that maybe he’d given up, judging from how long his silence lasted.

“…Detective Bell could always-”

“Marcus is not our chauffeur.”, she countered. “This is our stop. Come on.”

Joan quickly exited the bus with a sulking Sherlock in tow and they, quietly, walked the remaining two blocks to the crime scene Gregson had called them about earlier.

This was going to be a long week and she just needed to resign herself to that. Maybe by the end of their agreement Sherlock will have developed a newfound appreciation for the services taxi drivers provided.

Maybe he would even write a formal apology to Tony’s and explain the reason for the accusations he had hurled at their unsuspecting cab driver.

Maybe he could repair some of the damage done and Gregson wouldn’t have to send one of his patrol cars to pick them up when time was of the essence.

Maybe pigs really _could_ fly if they got a good running start.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a Latin phrase that means "Words, not deeds." The actual proverbial saying is the other way around. But really it's all about the dialogue for me. Who agrees?
> 
> Reviews are always welcome.


End file.
